Villain of old could also spin a yarn

Harold Larwood, the so-called villain of the 1932-33 Bodyline series, handed the ball that almost started a riot at Adelaide Oval after it cracked Australia's wicketkeeper Bert Oldfield's skull to my mother and he watched from behind his thick horn-rimmed glasses as a prized treasure of Anglo-Australia cricket history was dropped and rolled under the table in his sitting room.

Mum, who knew the Larwoods. was mortified but Larwood thought it was hilarious and in the thick English accent he couldn't shake - despite having lived in Sydney for 33 years - he offered: "Don't worry Carol, it's been through worse … "

When Larwood appeared from behind the front door of his Sydney home half an hour earlier that memorable day in 1983, it was as though a history book had opened to me. To a then 16-year-old - he was ancient at 79, but, nevertheless, the man who tamed the mighty Bradman stood in that doorway with the unmistakable stance of a great fast bowler.

"I bet I'm a lot smaller than you thought," he said before offering a warm handshake. He then ushered me, my mother and brother, through to his sitting room which was an Aladdin's cave of silverware, ornate trophies, old leather cricket balls, framed photographs and other mementos.

The rules laid down at the first of a handful of cherished meetings were simple. It was to be referred to as "fast leg theory'' and not the "Bodyline" term he despised. His skipper, called a "bastard" by Australians 50 years earlier, was to be referred to as Mr Jardine, a legacy perhaps of the era when the English game was divided by the gentlemen amateurs of Mr Jardine's ilk, and Mr Larwood's professionals.

He knew how to tell a story and in 10 minutes he brought the drama of January 16, 1932 - the third day of the Adelaide Test - to life as he recalled the scene at Adelaide when one of his deliveries hit Oldfield on the head and caused the normally sedate 50,000-strong South Australian crowd to become a seething mass of anger and outrage. He held the ball as he spoke.

''Only two batsmen were really hit,'' he said. ''One was Bertie Oldfield and he was playing a shot. It hit the inside of his bat and hit him. I ran down to apologise and before he collapsed Bertie said it wasn't my fault. The crowd started counting us out and I moved towards the stumps just in case I needed one to protect myself because I thought if one person jumped the fence a mob would follow."

On one of the last times I saw the great fast bowler, who was ultimately made the scapegoat by the MCC for the Bodyline drama, he was at Government House to receive his MBE. It was a proud moment for him but his willingness to talk to journalists and wellwishers in the heat took its toll. I was able to grab him as he collapsed and when he was taken away to the hospital - waving to show he was fine - it struck me later on I should have told him he was bloody lucky it was me and not my mum on hand to catch him.

With the 80th anniversary of that firestorm nearing, I remember Harold Larwood not as the villain but as a kindly gentleman, generous with his time and tales.